Wonderwall
by lullabyeyes
Summary: I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now. [Future RoryLogan, one-shot, spoilerish]


thanks to a, you're wonderfully sweet. and for the e, you rock, darling.  
disclaimer: characters not mine, no copyright infringement intended. thanks. - contain minor "spoilers" from the upcoming episode "Come Home".

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**Wonderwall **

_i don't believe that anybody_

_feels the way i do about you now_

It's sunny when you first see her. The sunlight creeps in from the entrance of her dorm, and she has a paper in one hand, and a frown on her face. She looks you up without much interest and proceeds to tack up the paper on the board. Mildly fascinated, you look up and find out that she's announcing some sort of "wake" for a recently deceased professor.

You wonder if she had a "thing" with him.

Shocked by your question, she stares you down, and then becomes enraged.

Without intending to, you engage in a debate. You have counters that match hers, and when you walk away, with that sly look on your face, you know you've won. Later on, as you're walking up the stairs, you realize that she's piqued your interest.

The leaves have a gold and red tint to them the next time that you see her. You bump into her (accidentally?), in the dining hall, and she spills coffee on your shirt; on your very expensive shirt. Wide-eyed, she rushes out her apologies and grabs some napkins to clean the mess up for you.

You know it won't work; the shirt's ruined. It was coffee, after all.

But instead of telling her otherwise, you let her go on with dabbing a napkin against your shirt. You think that you like the feeling of her fingertips against your chest. You dismiss that thought quickly. Not her.

_She with her chestnut hair, lullaby eyes, crimson lips._ Yes, you're looking.

You tilt your head to the side and remain quiet as she rambles about something. You look to the floor and notice that she's dropped all of her papers. Sighing, you reach up and take her hand to stop her. Then, you bend over, gather up her papers, and hand them back to her.

She says that she's sorry again; you just grin. You take her elbow, say "come on", and escort her out the dining hall. You ask where she's going, and she says "the newspaper". It's a coincidence because you're heading there too.

As you walk, you engage her into conversation. A little bit of "newspaper talk", cultures, movies, music, and finally, books. You find that she likes the last subject best because she goes on and on about it. _Later, you find out that she sniffs Yale books, but that's not until much later. _

As you talk to her, you find that you like her smart mouth, her witty remarks, and her ramblings. The two of you finally reach the newspaper, and you're somewhat sad. Knowing you have to see her again, you ask her to coffee later. _Later, you find out about her addiction for the stuff. But that's not until much later._

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical, and you make her an offer she can't refuse.

"My treat. All the coffee you want," you say, hoping that it'll work. You know that it'd be a small price to pay for more time with her: the girl with the lullaby eyes.

She grins, accepts your invitation, and then tells you to come by her dorm. She asks if you know where it is, and you say that you'll manage to find it. She nods, slips behind the door, and leaves you. You figure that you probably need to write an article for the paper soon, but you haven't gotten any inspiration in a while.

You wonder, briefly, if you'll start writing again soon. You hope that you will.

Later on, you come by the dorm to pick her up. She smiles when she sees you, and takes the arm that you extend out to her. As the two of you walk to your car, she tells you that she wasn't planning on saying yes, considering how much you frustrated her on your first encounter. Then, she says that she reconsidered because she felt an obligation to, since she did ruin your very expensive shirt.

Laughing, you tell her that you're glad that she did, and ask if this was a pity date. She gives you a sly look before responding, "This isn't a date". You smirk, nod your head, and allow her the satisfaction of having the last word.

When you reach the coffee shop, you lead her to a table near the windows. The café is lit with many, many candles and you wonder if she likes it. She glances over at you, smiles, and you then proceed to pull out a chair for her. You wonder if you're scoring points with her for doing so.

You sit down, take hold of your menu, and when the waiter comes, you ask for a Black and Tan. You ask her what she wants, and she tells the waiter, "Cappuccino, please". As you wait for the orders, you ask her what she's writing for the newspaper. Her eyes perk up, shining, as she tells you about her latest "discovery". She tells you about the Life and Death Brigade (like you've never heard of _this_), and how she's been doing research about it. You nod, drum your fingers on the table, and wonder how long it'll take for her to discover that you're in this club. You file it into the back of your mind and decide to let her come to you.

The coffee finally comes, and she asks you about your major, your family, and your favorite things. You answer them with honest sincerity, shocking the both of you. On her 3rd cup of coffee, she asks if you've ever seen "The Office". You tell her that you haven't, and she becomes wide-eyed, shocked.

"You've _never_ seen it?" she asks, not believing you.

You shake your head, and respond, "Nope. I feel kinda stupid now."

She laughs, and you think it's a lovely sound. Reaching over, she takes your hand, and tells you that you have to. You squeeze her hand, tells her that you will, but only if she watches it with you. She grins, accepts, and makes you promise to buy the popcorn and candy. You agree, and she retracts her hand back to her coffee mug.

The evening is finally over, and you walk her back to her dorm. When you reach the door, she turns around to face you. She tells you, very politely, that she had a wonderful time. You smile, take her hand, and bring it up to your lips to kiss her fingers. When you've done so, you squeeze her hand, and look up to meet her eyes.

She's speechless, for once, and you're glad.

You guide her closer to you, tilt your head a little, and take her lips in your own. She tastes wonderfully sweet, and you know that you've never had this concoction before. Not wanting to push your luck, however, you end the kiss and step back to give her room. You drop her fingers, and she's still very, very quiet. You wonder if you've screwed up.

After a few moments of silence, of uncomfortable silence, you tell her that you're looking forward to the movie night. You nod, begin to walk away, but she reaches out and stops you. She pulls you back, beckon you to come closer, and you don't remember much else because she kisses _you_.

Content, you kiss her back, and you cannot wait until your second date with her.

Your first fight with her happens when the two of you have dated for about 4 months. She had gotten mad at you, Colin, and Finn about your legendary antics. You'd staged some mock play in the middle of her class, and when you meet her for lunch, she's fuming.

She tells you off, not so lightly, and tells you to go and "shove it". You ask her "where", and is given a furious look in response. You decide not to push your luck.

You reason with her that it was "just a joke", and ask why she's so "uptight" about everything. She's silent for a moment before she tells you in a straight tone that classes, Yale, and the paper means something to her. She tells you that she "gets" that none of _this_, or Yale in general, means nothing to you (and she's probably right), but it means something to her.

Trying to reconcile, you tell her that your dad knows the professor, and will arrange a meeting if she'd like—if it would make her happy. Shaking her head, she gathers up her belongings, and tells you that you "just don't get it". Then she leaves, and you're stunned. Your stomach drops, and you know that you've screwed up royally.

Later on, you drop by her dorm with a cappuccino machine and four cups of coffee in hand, hoping for reconciliation. Paris answers the door when you knock, gives you a curious look, and tells you that she's inside her bedroom. You nod, proceed to her door, knock, and wait.

When she opens the door, she shoots you her "death glare", but her face softens at the sight of what you've brought her. Sighing, she tells you to come in, and you place the coffee and machine down on the floor. When she shuts the door, you are quick to tell her that you're sorry, and that she's right about the things that she said before—about the newspaper, about Yale in general—but you understand that it means a lot to her.

Then you tell her that you'll keep her values in mind the next time that you embarrass her. She smiles, comes over to where you're standing, and says that she can't refuse you. After all, you did bring her coffee. You take her hand, and she kisses you on the cheek. You think it's nice to reconcile.

She then proceeds to usher you out of her room, and you ask why. She tells you that she needs to work on her article (oh, right, you need to write an article soon, too). You ask her why you can't stay, and she blushes when she says, "You'll distract me".

You tell her that she's probably right, kiss her, and leave her to her work.

It's on Christmas Eve when she tells you that she loves you. It's on Christmas Day that you finally tell her the same. You tell her that you should have told her the same time, but she tells you to shut up, look up, and you realize that you're both standing under the mistletoe.

You bend to kiss her, and just before you do, she tells you that it doesn't matter when you told her, just that you did. Smiling, you take her lips in yours, and you wonder if you've ever loved her more.

She comes by your apartment (you've both graduated from Yale now), on Valentine's Day, with her present in hand. You open the door, happy to see her, and tell her to come in. When she walks in, she's in awe by the candlelight dinner that you've prepared. She sees the food set out ever so perfectly on the plates, and tells you that she didn't know that you could cook. You tell her that she doesn't know a lot of things about you.

The two of you sit down at the table, and you're suddenly nervous. You engage in light conversation with her, but the food goes untouched. She raises an eyebrow, senses your discomfort, and asks you what's wrong. You clear your throat, answer that "nothing's wrong", but tell her that you'd rather exchange gifts before eating.

Curious, she says "all right", and you lead her to your couch. She gives you your present first, and you're happy to find that she's given you a watch. You tell her that it's perfect, and she smiles. You hand her your present for her, looks down at your hands while she opens it, and wait for her response.

You're very scared that she'll say no.

You hear an intake of breath, a sniffle, and you wonder if it's okay to look at her. After a few minutes of silence, she takes your hand, asks you to put it on for her, and you're suddenly brimming with happiness.

"So is that a yes?" you ask lightly.

Her lips are trembling as she nods. You smile, lean over, and you both meet half way. You think that she's too good to be true. When you finally break from her lips, she asks if it's okay to reheat the food later. Laughing, you tell her that "it's fine", and lead her to the bedroom.

You marry her in summertime, in France, because she once told you that she's always wanted to be married in some place that's beautiful and inspirational. You don't care too much, just as long as you're going to be with her for the rest of your life.

It's in the spring when you have your first child, a little baby girl. She's so perfect that you can hardly imagine it. She has blonde hair, blue eyes, and she's absolutely perfect. You name her Annabelle because it means grace and beauty in French.

As Rory and yourself watch little Annabelle sleep, she asks you if you've ever been happier. You tell her that this must be what heaven feels like, and you mean it with your heart.

You catch Rory whispering, "She's perfect", and you nod in agreement before adding in, "so are you". She smiles, turns into you, and our wrap your arms around her body. You know that you've never loved anyone as much as you love her.

When Annabelle is about eight, she asks you when you tuck her in how you and Rory met. She is in that stage where everything is a fairy tale, and you smile as you sit down on the corner of her bed. Rory comes in a few minutes later, book in hand, but you've already started. _You don't need to make any of this up._ Her eyes soften as she watches you with Annabelle.

You tell your little girl about Yale, about her mother, and about the beginnings. As you tell her, you begin reminiscing about the past, but have no desire to relive it. You know that nothing can compare to the present.

You're halfway into the story when Annabelle yawns, snuggles into her teddy bear, and says, "Daddy …I just want to know how it ends."

Smiling, you bend to kiss your daughter before responding, "…and they lived happily ever after."

**END**


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